


Control

by RaeDMagdon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Control, D/s, F/F, Fingering, Power Play, Teasing, rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't often that Lexa likes to be in control... but in moments like this, as the thin ropes strain around Clarke's breasts and loop back over her pale, graceful shoulders, Lexa does feel a tinge of fire deep within her. She understands how someone could enjoy seizing power over another person. It just so happens that the only person she truly enjoys having power over is Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> For Sinday! Inspired by a beautiful drawing from @asariasami
> 
> Please follow me on tumblr @raedmagdon

It isn't often that Lexa likes to be in control.

Perhaps this is a strange way for someone in her position to feel— _Heda,_ the Commander of the Thirteen Clans. Most people become leaders because they enjoy power. Over the years, she has seen many leaders grow drunk with it: Nia, Pike, and even some of the previous Commanders who whisper in her head. But she was never one of those people.

She leads because she has to. Because she was chosen. Because it is expected. She will carry the burden until her fight is over, because that is what any true _gona_ in her position would do, but she does not enjoy it. In fact, the act of making decisions all day, every day, for people who cannot or will not understand them is exhausting.

But in moments like this, as the thin ropes strain around Clarke's breasts and loop back over her pale, graceful shoulders, Lexa does feel a tinge of fire deep within her. She understands how someone could enjoy seizing power over another person. It just so happens that the only person she truly _enjoys_ having power over is Clarke.

Maybe it's the perfect composition Clarke makes, a striking contrast of defiance and vulnerability. Her chin is held high, proud as always, but her eyes are covered by a bright red scarf and her hands are bound behind the back of the chair she is seated in. She cannot see, but she can hear, because her head tilts to every little sound Lexa makes. Her lips are full and wet, slightly parted as she sips in air and waits. And waits. And waits.

Lexa doesn't want to wait either, but she can't stop staring. She can't stop admiring the way Clarke's golden curls fall about her shoulders, or the way her pink nipples pucker against the cold air, or the way her stomach muscles shiver in anticipation. She's always loved Clarke's stomach, strong but softly padded too. And _Keryon,_ Clarke's thighs, thick with a mixture of muscle and cushion that makes them smooth and perfect under her hands...

She doesn't even realize she's touching Clarke's legs until a soft moan breaks the quiet. It's low, almost a whine, questioning and sweet. Clarke is both open to her touch, and also impatient for it. She even tries to arch into it, making the legs of the chair scrape against the ground.

"Hold still," Lexa orders, and for once, it's an order she doesn't mind giving.

Clarke rolls her lips together, obviously fighting down a protest, but she does as she is told. She stops struggling. She stays quiet. Only her breasts sway slightly as she breathes, but it's just enough motion to catch Lexa's attention. She can't resist. She takes one of those perfect pink nipples between her fingers and tugs, causing Clarke to cry out again.

"Lexa..."

 _"Hosh op."_ Normally, Lexa would never tell Clarke to be quiet. Clarke's voice is more beautiful than any song she's ever heard, and when Clarke says her name in fits of love and passion, sometimes she breaks down and weeps. But this is a rare and special occasion. Today, she needs the control. "You will take what I give you, and you will not ask for more. _Yu get ai klin?"_

Clarke pauses, just long enough to make Lexa's heart pound a bit harder. But then she murmurs, _"Sha, ai get yu klin."_

Lexa smirks. Hearing Clarke speak her language is almost as wonderful as hearing Clarke say her name, or scream it on the brink of release. _And she will release soon...when I decide it._ She lets go of Clarke's nipple, but only to palm the rest of her breast, kneading it firmly and admiring the way the ropes frame it. It was a strike of fancy to bind Clarke's breasts as well as her wrists, but Lexa is glad she did. It puts them on even more prominent display.

Slowly, she runs her hands over Clarke's body, experimenting with several different touches. She teases the ticklish spots beneath Clarke's ribs, enjoying the way Clarke's breath hitches as her Sky girl tries to stifle laughter. She cups Clarke's full hips, circling her thumbs again and again around the lightly protruding bones on either side. Finally, she spreads Clarke's trembling thighs, allowing herself just a small glimpse at the treasure she will be taking later.

Clarke is wet. Wet and pink and swollen, and so very ready. Her lips are shimmering with a clear glaze, and her clit has already extended past its hood. The red bud is practically pleading for attention, and it takes a small effort of will to avoid stroking it. Somehow, Lexa manages. She wants to savor this. Savor her power. It isn't often that she needs it, but when she does...oh, when she does, she wants to drink it to its fullest.

Instead, she removes her hands entirely. Clarke lets a whimper of complaint escape, but hurries to stifle it, and so Lexa allows the slip without comment. Instead, she circles around behind the chair. She can't see as much with the back of the chair in the way, but it will keep Clarke guessing, just like the blindfold that is still covering her eyes.

"If you cannot keep quiet, I will find another way to keep your mouth occupied," Lexa warns. What she has in mind would be impossible with the way Clarke is currently sitting, but she knows Clarke will appreciate the threat anyway. It works, because she can _see_ the shiver that runs through Clarke's body a second later. Satisfied, she brushes aside Clarke's golden hair, placing her lips against the softest part of Clarke's neck.

Clarke's skin tastes sweet, and warm, and just a little bit salty, and Lexa can feel her lover’s pulse point pounding. She sucks, just for a moment, and Clarke's fingers twitch, gripping the sides of the chair. _"Yu medo ste krei meizen ona ai teisa,"_ Lexa mutters into the crook of Clarke's throat, and it's true. Every inch of Clarke's body is delicious, and if she didn't enjoy the sight of the Sky girl bound like this so much, she would have gladly spent hours worshiping it with her tongue.

_Later. Later, there will be time. First, this. I need this._

She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling Clarke's chair slightly backwards so her hands have room to roam. She might not be able to see them as they roam across Clarke's body this time, but she can still claim every dip and valley with her palms. As she continues kissing Clarke's throat, working down in a wet, winding trail, her left hand moves up to Clarke's breast, thumbing the already-hard nipple there. She lets her right pet Clarke's stomach for a moment—but only a moment. Then, it moves down, dipping into the warm pool that has gathered between Clarke's legs.

_"Oh..."_

It's a soft exclamation, a mistake, but Lexa bites down on the cord of Clarke's shoulder anyway in reprimand. Clarke is hot and slippery, spilling slick all over her fingers, but she can't let that distract her. She asked for silence, and some hungry part of her needs it. Needs obedience. Clarke is actually listening to her orders today—a minor miracle, in truth—and she will not waste the opportunity.

"Don't speak," she growls, although she places a gentle kiss over the pretty purple bitemark she has left. "Just feel. Feel what I am doing to you. Feel what I am giving you."

She starts by stroking up and down in a soft line, waiting for Clarke's outer lips to part further for her. They swell open, and soon, Lexa can feel the ring of muscle at Clarke's entrance grasping at her fingertips, trying to suck them in. She wants to plunge forward, because she knows how warm and tight and silky it will be, but she waits. Instead, she moves up to Clarke's clit and rubs the root of the shaft between two pinching fingers.

Clarke begins to scream, but bites her tongue just in time. The muffled _'mmf'_ she makes sends a jolt between Lexa's own legs, and she feels a few strands of heat slide down her thighs. After this, she will certainly need Clarke's attention. But first, Clarke is wet and shivering and waiting to be filled, and Lexa isn't sure how long she can continue this toying. She tweaks the tip of Clarke's breast again, just to see if Clarke will make a sound, but all she gets is a wordless gasp.

That convinces Lexa to offer a reward. She stops playing with Clarke's clit and moves down again, seeking out the opening she has only passed over before and sliding inside with two fingers. It's a searing slice of heaven, like holding one of the very stars Clarke came to her from. _“Yu bilaik faya ona ai meika, raun oma snapa,”_ she groans as Clarke continues smearing the heel of her hand with heat. It's already dripping everywhere, but she wants more. Always more.

The words only coax Clarke into gripping tighter. Her muscles squeeze and clutch, and Lexa curls her fingers into sharp hooks, probing at the sensitive spot along Clarke’s front wall. She knows it by heart, and knows that as long as she keeps up the pressure, Clarke will hurtle higher and higher. “Beg, _niladon_ ,” she says, when she can't stand the tension any longer. She’s as hungry to hear those words as she’s sure Clarke is to come. “Beg for what you want, and I will give it to you.”

On another night, Clarke might have protested the playful pet name: _niladon,_ ‘one who kneels’, a reminder of their shared past together. On another night, Clarke might have glared back with a hard glint in her eyes and said, “Make me.” But somehow, Clarke can sense that Lexa needs this. Even with her eyes covered and her wrists bound and a hand between her legs, she understands. Instead of offering her usual challenge, she lets out a cracked, uneven _“Beja…”_

It's enough for Lexa. She's tired of waiting, of denying herself. Her whole life has been built up around patience, around understanding, around the needs of others. Right now, she wants simply to surrender to her own selfish feelings. She starts thrusting faster, harder, until Clarke is yelping despite orders.

The second Lexa mutters, "Come," not in _Heda's_ usual clipped tone, but in a low growl she is rarely capable of, Clarke's body yields. It bows within its bonds, and Lexa has the immense satisfaction of feeling a flood rush out around her fingers. Clarke's muscles ripple beautifully around her knuckles, squeezing so tight she can barely move—but she still has just enough leverage to press into the perfect spot, even if it does light up the tendons in her arms.

"Lexa!"

The moment Lexa hears Clarke's voice break on her name—not Commander, or _Heda,_ but _Lexa—_ the last of her exhaustion lifts. Her own inner walls shiver, not with the same heavy throbs that are coursing through Clarke's, but enough to tempt her into removing her other hand from Clarke's breast so she can cup it between her legs. With just a few strokes, she's coming too, jerking once, twice into her own hand before pushing past her brief but intense peak and re-focusing on her sobbing, shaking lover.

No one says her name like Clarke does. No one responds to her the way Clarke does. No one takes care of her like Clarke does, and no one _knows_ her like Clarke does. In her wildest dreams, she has never imagined having someone who can anticipate her needs so perfectly—sometimes before she is aware of them herself.

"That's it," she murmurs, slowing her thrusts inside of Clarke, but keeping them deep and firm. "Give me everything. I want..." Perhaps it is selfish, to want more when Clarke has already given her so much, but she can't help herself. She has never had much restraint where Clarke is concerned, despite her best efforts.

It spins out for a long time, until her wrist is drenched with clear ribbons of Clarke's come and her own clit is pulsing against the heel of her palm. Clarke is so hot, so silky and smooth and soft, that she doesn't want to stop plunging—but eventually, has to slow down. Both of her hands are sticky, soaked with the proof of their shared desire, and Clarke is whimpering and twitching with exhaustion. Gently, she withdraws her fingers, and Clarke's head tips back, lolling against her shoulder.

Lexa can see the tops of Clarke's eyes peeking out from over the blindfold, but she doesn't bother fixing it. She wants to see the hazy look of contentment in them. She wants to lose herself in that beautiful blue. "Better?" Clarke asks, and Lexa laughs. She was about to ask the same question. She removes the blindfold and tosses it aside, pressing a gentle kiss to Clarke's sweaty temple.

 _"Sha._ You?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of hope you have bad days more often." She gives Lexa a sheepish smile. "I overheard a rumor you'd gotten into an argument with some of the Ambassadors today and had to show them who the boss was. I thought this might help."

Lexa chuckles softly. "If they wanted the boss, they should have spoken to you, _niladon._ Owner of my heart."

"You're not wrong... but could you please untie me?"

"Why?" Lexa's brow furrows with concern. "Are the ropes hurting you?"

"No..." A glint of mischief appears in Clarke's eyes, and she runs her tongue over her shiny pink lips. "But it'll be pretty hard for you to sit on my face while I'm tied to this chair."

Lexa hurries to loosen the ropes. That has to be the best proposal any of her Ambassadors has given her all day.

**Author's Note:**

> Keryon = Spirit, an exclamation  
> Hosh op = Be quiet  
> Yu get ai klin = Do you understand?  
> Yu medo ste krei meizen ona ai teisa = Your body tastes so good under my tongue  
> Yu bilaik faya ona ai meika, raun oma snapa = You're like fire in my hand, around my fingers  
> Niladon = one who kneels, pet name


End file.
